A doctor from Washington who had just retired informed his wife he wanted to go on a hike by himself to deal with the significant shift in his life. He then set off for Mount Rainier. But he never arrived home, which made his loyal wife wonder what had gone wrong. The case fell cold because investigators thought he had either killed himself or been in a terrible accident.
Four years later, though, hikers in the woods downstream find something astonishing stuck in a beaver dam. This proof would destroy the official story and show that his wife’s instincts were right all along. Charlotte’s hands shook as she broke eggs into the pan. The morning sun came through the window in her kitchen, where she could see the distant outline of Mount Rainier. Four Years It had been four years since Robert had kissed her farewell that morning, promised to be back by dinner, and then disappeared into the wilderness he loved so much.
The eggs popped, but she was immersed in the old pain of not knowing. The loud ring of the phone scared her and made her drop the spatula. She looked at the caller ID, which said “Mount Rainier National Park.”
Her heart skipped a beat. It had been more than two years since they called. Mrs. Henley Charlotte? The ranger spoke in a calm, professional way.
Ranger Mike Patterson from Mount Rainier National Park is here. We need you to come to the station. Some hikers found a backpack in a beaver dam yesterday, and we were able to follow it using the GPS tracker’s serial number.
Robert, your spouse, owns it. The words hurt her like a punch. She held on to the counter tightly, and her knuckles turned white.
After all this time, a backpack? Yes, ma’am. Could you go to the ranger’s station? We need to ask some questions, and the police are already here. Charlotte’s mind raced as she drove the same path to the ranger’s station, and her hands shook on the wheel.
Every curve made me think of something. This was the road they had driven on together many times. Robert was always eager about going on another trip, and he always promised to be careful.
She had faith in his experience and the way he did things. He’d been hiking these routes for thirty years. There were two police cruisers in the ranger’s station parking lot, along with the regular park cars.
As Charlotte entered through the doors, the smell of pine and aged wood made her stomach turn. Ranger Patterson, a stocky man in his forties, looked at her with kind eyes. Thank you for coming, Mrs. Henley.
Detective Morrison, who works at the sheriff’s office in the county, introduced herself. Detective Morrison, a tall woman with tightly brushed gray hair, extended her hand. I’m sorry we have to meet like this. Please have a seat.
They took her to a small meeting room where Robert’s rucksack, which was wet and had mud on it, was on the table. It was also partially torn. Charlotte’s breath caught. She knew it right away: the gray and blue pack she had given him for his sixtieth birthday, which usually had the red carabiner on the side.
Ranger Patterson said that the hikers spotted it stuck in a beaver dam about eight miles downriver from Spray Falls. It was partly covered in mud and branches. The GPS device’s serial number helped us find it.
Detective Morrison opened a file. We got the memory card back from the GPS device, Mrs. Henley. The antenna was broken.
That’s why we couldn’t find it in any of our searches throughout the years. But the memory card still had data on it from before the harm happened. Charlotte leaned forward, her heart racing with hope and fear.
What did it show? The data shows that your husband intentionally went off the path that day. The last signal came from a place that wasn’t on any of the marked paths around here. The detective’s finger landed on a remote part of the forest when she pointed to a topographical map.
We looked in those precise places again yesterday and this morning, but we still didn’t find anything. Charlotte said, “But Robert never went off the trail.” He was cautious about safety.
He filed his plans for trekking and stayed on the trails. He never once strayed from his planned itinerary in thirty years of hiking. Detective Morrison’s face stayed the same.
The GPS data is clear. He was a long way from where he claimed he would be trekking. The evidence and the secluded location give us two options: suicide or an accident.
Is it suicide? Charlotte’s voice broke. Robert had just stopped working. We were going to Alaska on a cruise and then to Oregon to see our grandkids.
He was pleased that they will have more time together. The detective replied, “I know this is hard,” her voice getting a little softer. But after four years, with animals and natural decay, there wouldn’t be much left.
We will not be reopening the case. We didn’t find anything at those coordinates, and to be honest, there’s nothing else we can do. Charlotte felt like the walls were closing in on her.
You’re quitting? Like that? We won’t give up, Mrs. Henley. We’re being honest. Your husband went off the path and into a perilous location.
Whether it was intentional or an error, the outcome remains the same. The case will stay closed. Charlotte looked through the backpack’s contents with Ranger Patterson while she cried.
Robert’s medical license was in a plastic case that was bent but still readable. Robert James Henley, M.D., was depicted in the picture with wire-rimmed glasses and kind eyes. She missed that soft smile so much. His hiking permit, which was dated October 15th, four years ago, had faded ink but was still readable.
His phone was ruined since the screen was shattered and full of dirty water. Ranger Patterson stated quietly, looking at the detective who had gone outside to answer a call, “The strange thing is where we found this.” The Beaver Dam is miles away from any recognized trail.
Your spouse would have had to be well off his registered path for the pack to end up there. The way the water flows shows that it went a long way. Charlotte stared at the broken things, unable to believe what they meant.
Robert always followed the paths he had prepared. He would look at the weather three times before departing. He had extra batteries and emergency supplies with him.
He was careful about safety. That’s what made him a brilliant doctor. This argument doesn’t make any sense.
The ranger looked like he understood. Even seasoned hikers mess up sometimes, Mrs. Henley. Or, occasionally, folks just don’t want to be found.
But Charlotte knew better. Robert would never leave her alone like that. Not after being married for forty years.
Not after they promised to spend every day of their retirement together. He was so thrilled about the day that he had been counting down the days and crossing them off his workplace calendar with a red marker. They were retaining the backpack as evidence, but she couldn’t tell what it was evidence of. She left the station with a bag full of photocopies of the permits and a receipt for the backpack.
Charlotte felt more adrift than she had in four years. The official decision was obvious. Robert had gone off the route, either by accident or on purpose.
The case is over. But nothing about this felt like it was over. Charlotte waited in her car outside the police station for a while, holding onto the steering wheel until her knuckles hurt.
The morning had gone from a normal breakfast to a life-changing discovery, and she needed to talk to someone who knew Robert and understood what kind of person he was. His old coworkers had a right to know about the backpack. On her way to Cascade Medical Associates, she drove through downtown and past the coffee shop where Robert used to stop every morning for his black coffee and blueberry muffin. She also passed the park where they had his retirement party, where his coworkers surprised him with a cake shaped like Mount Rainier.
The recollections were everywhere and couldn’t be avoided. The practice looked different now. The blue awning that everyone knew had been replaced with gray, and the sign had been renovated with sleek letters.
Charlotte pushed through the glass doors into a waiting area that looked very different from the one she remembered. Robert had insisted on comfy chairs and inviting colors, but they were gone. Now everything was a bright white and chrome color.
Do you need help? The young receptionist looked up from her computer, but she didn’t seem to know who I was. My name is Charlotte Henley. My husband, Dr. Robert Henley, used to work here.
I need to talk to someone about… about a new thing? The receptionist’s eyebrows, which were flawlessly formed, furrowed. Sorry, I don’t know that name. I have only been here for eighteen months.
Can I talk to the manager of the office? A man in his forties who looked stressed came in a few minutes later. Hi, I’m Brandon Chen, the current office manager. I’m afraid I didn’t know your husband.
Two years ago, the practice was sold, and most of the staff left. But Sarah Winters is still an employee here. Sarah was employed here during Dr. Henley’s tenure.
Is Sarah still here? Charlotte felt a wave of comfort wash over her. Sarah was Robert’s favorite nurse. He trusted her completely since she was excellent at her job and cared about him. She is with a patient right now, but she should be free in approximately 20 minutes.
You can wait in the break room if you’d like to. It’s less public than out here. At least the break room hadn’t altered much.
Charlotte sat at the round table where Robert used to eat lunch. She always made sure to include any staff who seemed lonely or stressed. Sarah raced in twenty-three minutes later, and as soon as she spotted Charlotte, her expression showed how worried she was. Charlotte, oh my gosh, how are you? Sarah hugged her tightly, then pulled back to look at her face.
Is everything all right? You seem unhappy. Charlotte’s words came out in a rush. The backpack, the GPS data, and what the police found out.
Sarah listened carefully, and with each detail, her face grew more worried. They found it in a dam made by beavers? After all this time, Sarah sat down in the chair across from Charlotte. I can’t believe that…
